The Man in the Photograph
by A. Thena Agron
Summary: Akihito's story about his captivity in Hong Kong makes Takato suspicious.


TITLE: The Man in the Photograph

CHARACTERS/PAIRING: Takato, Asami x Akihito,

RATING: G

SPOILERS/WARNINGS: Set after Love Prize 4. Kinda fluffy

SUMMARY: Takato doesn't quite buy Akihito's tale of his adventures in Hong Kong

DISCLAIMER: Akihito, Takato and the rest of the characters in the amazing world of "Viewfinder" belong to the very talented Yamane Ayano.

* * *

"Make shooooor Kou geshhome shafe, OK," Akihito yelled drunkenly at the retreating backs of his friends before stumbling back inside the apartment and shutting the door with a loud click. He swayed a bit as he turned around and yelped when he found Takato sitting calmly on his sofa, reading a magazine.

"But ... but," a confused Akihito began, his alcohol-glazed gaze bouncing between Takato and the door. "Evybodysh gone ... You not home?"

Takato merely shook his head and tossed the weeks-old celebrity rag he'd been flipping through onto the table. He waited as Akihito lingered by the door, his face a picture of concentration. He'd been friends with Akihito long enough to read him well. Right now, Akihito was trying to figure out a polite way to make him leave.

Takato had a feeling his friend's sake-soaked brain wasn't giving him any ideas.

He'd been relieved to get the phone call from Akihito earlier that afternoon. He and Kou had dropped what they were doing and sped to the airport to pick up their long-lost friend. They had been so worried over Akihito, sure that he had gotten himself into something way over his head. And they hadn't been mollified when they had tried to file a missing-persons report. In fact, they'd become even more worried — and suspicious — when they were told by the police that Takaba Akihito had gone on a trip. How the heck had the police known that? The last time he and Kou had seen Akihito was weeks ago when he had gone after a black limousine. And that was after he and Kou had been kidnapped by that Chinese guy with long hair.

Now, Akihito was back with a fantastic story about kidnapping, corrupt police, a casino cruise ship and a shootout.

Except Takato wasn't sure he believed Akihito.

During dinner, he and Kou had called their other friends to tell them about Akihito safe's return. Everybody had insisted on coming over to see their missing buddy for themselves. So what should have been a simple dinner had stretched into an evening that involved the consumption of a lot of alcohol.

And with every friend who had arrived, Akihito had been asked to repeat his story.

That was when Takato began to realize there was more to Akihito's adventure than he'd been sharing. With each repetition of Akihito's tale, some new details had come out. Now there was somebody named Feilong involved. Then a little boy named Tao. Also, perverted Russians (that one had Takato raising an eyebrow).

And through it all, the name Asami kept coming up.

Something about that name had niggled at Takato. He was sure he'd heard it before. He would have asked Kou but his friend had been deep in his cups at that point.

A little after midnight, he'd persuaded the group to bring Akihito home. But instead of merely dropping off Akihito, the drinking had continued.

While Akihito had been regaling the group about his troubles for the hundredth time, Takato had brought Akihito's bags inside the bedroom, worried the drunken, rowdy men in the living room would stumble over them and break something — like a vase, or a nose. When he'd placed the messenger bag on Akihito's table, a digital camera had slipped out. It looked new and high-end. Curious, he'd switched it on and began looking at the images. What he'd found had only added to the mystery surrounding Akihito's disappearance.

A mystery he wanted to solve.

And who better to answer his questions than a drunken Akihito whose brain was too scrambled to come up with lies. One way or another, even if it took him all morning, Takato was going to get to the truth.

And so he'd decided to stay behind when the others left.

He almost laughed when he saw Akihito's eyes focus a little when an idea hit him.

"Whashabout your wife?" Akihito asked. His brilliant, if slightly lopsided, smile told Takato his friend felt proud to have come up with that question.

Takato waved his hand dismissively. "She knows I'll be home late."

Akihito frowned again.

Taking pity on his friend, Takato stood up and took Akihito's arm, guiding him toward the sofa. After he was settled, Takato went into the kitchen to make his friend a cup of tea. It didn't take him long as he'd put the kettle on while the boys were saying their goodbyes. When he returned to the living room, he found Akihito sprawled on the length of the sofa, mumbling incoherently.

He put the hot tea on the coffee table before dropping down on the floor next to the sofa. From one of his side pockets, he pulled out a thin camera.

"Hey, Akihito," he said none too softly. "Let's look at your vacation photos."

"Hmmm?" came the befuddled response.

Takato pressed a series of buttons and pulled up the shots. They were mostly beach scenes.

"Dash Bali," Akihito said drowsily, "Indoooneeesha." Takato filed away the information in his head as he continued to click to the next photograph.

There were close-ups of food. Some shots of flowers and trees. There was one of a mother and child playing in the surf, the glee apparent in the little boy's face. And one of a stern-looking hulk of a man who looked very uncomfortable. It might have something to do with the fact he was wearing a black suit on the beach. Akihito laughed when he saw the photo and said something that sounded like "stupid shoe." Takato couldn't tell, Akihito was slurring too much. One thing was for sure, though. These were certainly not the kind of photos you'd expect from somebody who claimed to have been kidnapped by gangsters.

After a few more clicks, they finally got to the photos Takato was most interested in. They were those of a man in casual clothes. There was something familiar about the man, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it. Takato's first thought had been that the man was a model Akihito had met on the beach. He certainly had the face for it, and judging from the sculpted abs peeking through the open white shirt billowing in the wind, he definitely had the body. In fact, the man could be one of those guys in perfume ads that his wife drooled over.

Except this guy had none of the vacant look those pretty boys in their underwear and cowboy hats always sported. No, this one exuded danger from every pore. In every shot — none posed — Takato could see it in every line of his body. Coiled energy. Caged strength. Those were Takato's impressions of this man.

Until he came to one photo. According to the time stamp, it was the first one ever taken with the camera. In this one, the man was looking straight at whoever was taking the photograph. He looked so unguarded, his golden eyes brimming with emotion — with love?

"Akihito ... " Takato gently nudged his friend. It looked like Takaba was about to fall asleep.

"Huh?"

"Who is this?" Takato brought up the camera so Akihito could see better.

The young man let out a soft hum when he recognized who was pictured. He raised an unsteady hand and touched the screen gently with a finger.

Takato watched as a small smile lifted the corners of Akihito's lips before they fell again and his brow crinkled into a frown.

"Shtooopid Ashami," he whispered.

Takato let Akihito tug the camera from his hand. Without turning it off or clicking to another photo, Akihito pressed it close to his chest and dozed off.

Takato stood up slowly, careful not to jostle his sleeping friend. He grabbed the light blanket that was folded on top of a nearby chair and draped it over the lightly snoring Akihito. He stood there for a good long while, watching Akihito sleep, his mind scrambling to put together all the information he got. He got some answers, but now he had even more questions.

_So that's Asami. And it appears he has a relationship with Akihito. But what kind? _

Takato recalled that first photo — and smiled at what he saw there. He'd say it was romantic. And judging by his friend's response to the photo, Takato knew whatever love there was wasn't unrequited.

_So you swing that way, eh Akihito?_

Takato chuckled softly, then reached down to brush Akihito's bangs away from his eyes. Well, when his friend was ready to talk, he'd be ready to listen.

**The End**


End file.
